MEMORIES BY ANGELINA (Episode Three)

My teen years were mixed up. My folks lost their home and we had to move to a smaller house in a different community. It was across town and it felt like another world. We were all devastated and hurt. My folks went through hell and their entire world came tumbling down along with mine. My brothers were younger and seemed to accept what happened. Leaving the old neighborhood was hard to take but with time things got settled and we made the best of our situation. Our new neighbors were very nice and soon we were good friends. It took a while but we made the old house livable and clean. Momma was a very neat lady and the landlord couldn’t believe we could make it look so good.

It was not a comfortable house at all but it kept the wind and the rain out. Also it kept us warm most winters. But (it) was unbearable in the summer. We had a summer kitchen in back of the house where we had our lunches and dinners in summer. It also had an old fashioned brick oven that momma used to cook bread, cookies and pizza in. Papa always had a very beautiful vegetable garden which we enjoyed all summer. We also had fruit trees, (and) grape arbors, with an abundance of fruit and nut trees.

By the time I had graduated from high school, I was trying to help the folks out with money. My brothers did too, whenever they could. John was too young but in later years he more than made up for it. It didn’t take much knowledge to pick figs, just back breaking work. This didn’t last long; we decided there was more to life than picking figs or cutting for ten cents a box. These were fifty pound boxes. We went to the cannery instead. That was just as bad. (It was) hard work, twelve hour days, seven days a week. Sunday was just another day. We did this in summer to make extra money to help our folks out. I worked a couple of summers on the swing shift. It was the pits.

I didn’t like piece work; I liked working the cap bottling machine instead, because it paid more money. Somehow I never made much sorting fruit or vegetables (but) sorting fruit on a belt moving table was not so bad, but, oh, how my feet and legs hurt by the time 7AM came around. We started at seven in the evening and worked till 7 in the morning. It was hard work but when you are young you don’t mind.

Getting a pay check which I earned (myself) made me feel good. I also had to share it with my folks. That’s the way it was. I can’t recall how many summers I worked at the cannery but one day I decided I would try something better, so I got a job in town as a sales person. It wasn’t very hard to take and I felt better as a person; earning $25.00 a week was great. I started working Monday thru Saturday from 9AM to 6PM. I had to walk several miles. Winter was bad but I didn’t mind the summer. I never thought of ever owning a car, might as well wished for the moon. I worked for Neal’s Department Store for two years and then was switched to the smaller store. It was closer to home and made walking to work easier.

Somehow I managed to buy a few items of clothing and shoes and did well on my pay. I tried so very hard to look stylish. I even bought a few goodies now and then to share with my folks. Momma was the best cook and she baked better goodies than you could buy. We always had an abundance of her Italian dishes on holidays. On Sundays, Papa always insisted on special dishes and we loved them too. I always helped, after Sunday Mass. Papa went to church when he could and enjoyed reading his Bible. I went to church with him whenever I could and he liked that.

At times, Momma didn’t make it for church and she would have fresh coffee and I’d help with pancakes and muffins. She had her famous Italian sauce cooking and you could smell it from blocks away. I always looked forward to our Sunday dinners. Momma could do just about anything. When I was little she sewed my clothes and I was proud to wear them. I guess she sewed for me until I graduated from high school. Her clothes always looked store bought. Yes, Momma could do just about anything.

My girl friends and I went dancing every Saturday night except for the cold winter season and bad rainy nights. We didn’t enjoy staying home on Saturday night. We went to the movies a lot, even in the rain. The umbrella helped but not enough to keep our feet from getting soaked. One Saturday night, in February, 1945, I was asked by a nice looking soldier to dance. He seemed quite nice and we introduced ourselves to each other. Our conversation was limited. We danced the ballroom floor a few times and then he politely led me to where I was seated. He thanked me and he left. My friends were excited and thought him a good catch.

A couple of weeks later, at the same ‘Rainbow Ballroom’ I saw him again and he asked me to dance. This went on for several weeks and one thing led to another and I invited him home to meet my parents. Papa, Momma and my brothers liked him. In case you haven’t guessed, his name is William James Ray. We dated pretty steady for the next few months and on 3 June, 1945, we were married.

In the fifty two years that have passed since that lucky day, life has been a bowl of cherries. Some sour, but most sweet. As of 1998 we have seven children, six boys and one girl, seven spouses, fifteen grandchildren and six great grandchildren. We say that love, Italian food and dancing have made it all possible.